


Girl from 4

by liiazzz555



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 74th Hunger Games, Angst and Romance, District 4, Drama, F/M, The Capitol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liiazzz555/pseuds/liiazzz555
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had this uncontrollable desire to peek at his direction and see if he was still paying attention to me. The need for that information disgusted me. Even though I really didn't want to look I did." Seneca Crane/OC and Cato/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Hermia Crane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm Lia. This is my new Hunger Games fic. I will update this once in a week, I promise.
> 
> I read the first book about a year ago and became a fan of the Hunger Games but when I watched the film I became very interested in the character of Seneca Crane. Even though he wasn't really in the books I thought that bringing that kind of behind-the-scenes aspect to the Games was fascinating. I really loved the gamemaker scenes and especially Crane as a character. Even though he's kind of a bad guy I still don't feel like he's evil. You can just see that he has more to his personality than being evil. Crane is complex and I find that kind of characters really compelling somehow. I felt like searching some fanfiction about him but there wasn't really much of it so I decided to write my own. Seneca Crane is not the main character in my fic but he does have the second leading role. My main character is in fact an OC. I don't usually read fics with OCs but I really hope you give mine a chance. I've grown to love her when I've kind of got to know more and more of her along the writing process. I hope you like the story I want to share with you. Please enjoy!

"Where are you going?" Crane inquires suspiciously.

"Strolling", I respond without care.

Crane nods but I know he doesn't approve. But who cares. I kiss him goodbye and step out of the hotel room. I slam the door shut and walk idly towards the elevator. I caress the velvety walls as I go. There's no one else in the aisle and the only hearable sound is the low humming of the air conditioning. The atmosphere is a bit eerie but I can't help but love the quietness. Even the air conditioning doesn't bother me. Actually the sound gives me comfort. It reminds me of the sea at home. It's a lonely sound but that's just another thing that makes it feel comforting. I love solitude. I like people to an extent but I really need these kind of alone moments. Living with a person in a somewhat stuffy hotel room can get on your nerves. Crane is charming but I can't help that his constant imperious manner towards me gets me on the edge. It's not like getting ordered around is news to me but I'm really bad with respecting authorities and, you know, world is all about that so that's probably why I haven't still managed to fit in. I've never really connected with anyone. My mind is curious that way. They say I have an "inconvenient nature" which apparently makes me destined to fall out of society. Well, great for me.

As I reach the elevator a small avox boy appears around the corner and opens the door for me.

"To the roof, thanks", I tell him politely as I step in.

The boy smiles and pushes the button. Then he peeks at me curiously as if wanting to ask me something. He turns his head away timidly as our eyes meet.

"I guess I haven't been seen here before, huh", I state, "I'm the head gamemaker Crane's daughter. I've just moved here. My mother passed away recently."

The avox looks at me compassionately. It kinda annoys me because I'm pretty sure that his fate is much worse than the poor Capitol girl's with a single dad. The elevator stops and I try to reach for the door but the boy gets there first opening it for me. I give him an awkward smile and step into the cold.

It's very windy despite the force field guarding the roof. Not guarding, preventing the suicide attempts of the tributes that might take place there. The cold is nice though. It is a good change from the overly-heated, dim, sweaty hotel room where I'd been stuck for a week with Mr. Seneca Crane. Don't get me wrong. Living with Crane is a much better life than I'd ever have in district 4 training to be slaughtered for the entertainment of the Capitol. Now I'm here living the life of the crème-de-la-crème as Crane's 15-year-old daughter in a stuffy hotel that serves as the residence of the gamemakers during the Hunger Games season.

The building is attached to the Training Center where the tributes stay. That's how President Snow can keep an eye on both easily and if he needs anything from the gamemakers he can just simply summon them for a meeting in his mansion at any hour of the day. That's the perks of having everything basically on your backyard. The funny thing is that the residence of the tributes is much more "high-class" than of the gamemakers. A way to keep the tributes distracted with the marvelousness of the Capitol and forget all about the misery in their own district. Of course, I've lived my whole life in the combat academy so can't say that I've ever been starving or lived in poor conditions. They provided us the right amount of nutrition for building the stamina and the shape for the Games. The mentors were very strict about our diet unlike in the Capitol where you throw up to eat more. They were very strict about everything, the way we dressed, talked,behaved. That was all to raise us to the right state of mind. The state where you're a team player but trust no one, the state where you kill with no remorse and take pride in it, the state where you see everyone and everything as a competition or perhaps an utility on the way to the top and bringing pride to your district. Of course, as a counterbalance when we had holidays every once in awhile, everyone got crazy. We did all the things we weren't aloud to in school, got drunk and high, had sex, ate what we wanted and beat up some poor 10-year-olds who got in the way of our pack.

I don't really know why Crane took me but I'm genuinely thankful for it. He says he loves me but I'm not foolish enough to believe in such. You see, he invents different ways to torture and kill people like you and me, the common folk. I know I'm a Capitol girl now but my heart will always belong in district 4. In that way I'm a hypocrite. But yeah, I'm pretty sure Crane doesn't love. He's a sadist. You can see that he adores his job and well, for his defense, gets paid generously. Hell, even I'd accept the offer If I could, or maybe I wouldn't. But anyway "Mr. Crane" seems like a nice person when you meet him but he really isn't. He never does anything without gaining profit. He's calculative, intelligent and ambitious, very ambitious. That's just part of the allure, he's also charming, good-looking and a smooth talker. What? You thought he kidnapped me or something? Nah, the opposite, I begged him to take me with him. I kind of got carried away with all the curious and exotic things he told me about his world. I just had to get out of mine. A nice dull fisherman family, a sweet mother, an absent but protective father, two brothers and one sister, one of us a victor already and three of the siblings, including myself, in training to become killing machines and in our free time, when we weren't roaming the streets and bringing pride to our district, learning everything about fishing. No one would even notice if I was gone. Not sure if they have. My parents will still have a couple of victors and in the future a few dead children in their family. When I disappeared I just probably became one of the dead ones, a terrible accident at the academy, a slip of a battle axe or a miscalculated punch to my stomach. No one would ever be told I'd ran away because the fatal information of it would put President Snow's authority in horrid danger. Or no one just gives a shit. Surely some other persistent student will gladly take my place at the top of the class, as this year's volunteer.

Still I feel a bit guilty for leaving, running away like the coward that I am. But as I get used to being Crane's daughter the unpleasantness fades away and replaces itself with the feeling of security, the feeling of home. I repeat, feeling, just a feeling. I feel that everything in our so-called relationship is false but as long as the show goes on, everything's fine.

"The fuck you're doing here?" someone calls out.

"The fuck YOU're doing here?" I mimic.

The guy turns around looking annoyed.

"Who do you think you are? You're not even one of the tributes, are you?" he questions taking a few steps towards me.

I recognize him. Oh shit. It's Cato from my class. Just my luck. He's a tall, blond,

brawny guy who was in the top of the top in class. For a few years we've had a competition going on who's better. I've always been good at school but I was not the best at the team assignments so that's where I usually failed. I just can't stand when someone is as thick as a pretty big section of the Careers. I mean how could you think that swimming and fishing are useless in the arena. I mean really. Remember Annie Cresta? She won because she could swim. But Cato, as much as I hate to admit, is good with people. He knows exactly how to make them tick. His weakness is his temper. It leads him to rush actions. That's how I won a combat with him a couple of times even though he's probably twice my size.

I give him my most pleasant customer service smile and point out smugly:

"Well, I'm Hermia Crane, the daughter of Seneca Crane."

The boy's expression changes. My heart stops and I'm sure he knows who I am.

"Oh, well, nice to meet you. I'm Cato from district 2", he presents himself and offers his hand.

I shake it and smirk at him. He is as dumb as he looks. Or perhaps the new haircut Crane forced me to take was a good idea after all. I still miss my long chestnut locks though. Now they're just short bottle blond with the shade of lilac in them. Actually when I think about it, it's not quite unexpected that Cato doesn't recognize me as his good old Lynn since he's only seen me in sweaty training outfits and such and who the hell would suspect that their missing classmate would be found spending a pleasant time under the charitable wing of the divine Capitol and at the moment its most successful gamemaker, Mr. Seneca Crane, and wearing the latest Capitol couture and feasting on the wonders of the capitolian dishes made from the finest ingredients provided by the jolly workers of the districts. Okay, maybe my sarcasm is going too strong. Please, excuse me.

I walk slowly to the edge of the roof and look down wanting to clear my head. Everything looks so surreal, the people in their colorful wigs, the lights and the shops and just everything. It gives me the creeps even though it is very intriguing at the same time.

"So how old are you?" Cato who has creeped next to me asks.

"15", I lie.

"Huh, not too bad. I'm 18", he states visibly satisfied with himself and then continues, "You wanna hang out?"

"As in what?" I ask startled.

"Hang. Out. You know, with the guys, our gang, the careers, I mean", he explains himself.

I nod in agreement so Cato takes my hand and drags me to an elevator that I suppose leads to the Training Center. I'm weirded out but I decide to just roll with it to a point, of course. Cato presses the button lazily and we wait in an awkward silence. The door is opened by a red-headed avox girl.

"To four", Cato commands and the girl looks confused.

"Stop staring and do as you're told, ginger. Push the damn button because that's the only thing you're good for", he then adds and the avox looks a bit hurt but obeys.

We're there quickly and as the girl opens the door for us, Cato puts his arm around me. I don't stop him but I kind of give the red-head an apologetic smile as we walk past. As soon as we step out of the elevator, about a twelve-year-old boy corners us. Shit. He's from my district, my brother's best friend's little brother. I don't remember his name but I'm certain I know him. I try to hide my face by nuzzling into Cato's chest. I can feel him smirking.

"4, get out of the way", Cato tells the boy casually.

"What's your business here?" the boy questions.

Cato snorts and pushes the kid out of the way. He leads me into a big bed room where are one other boy and three more girls. The boy's skinny and even taller than Cato. One of the girls is small, pale and dark and has a lot of freckles, the second one looks like the Greek goddess Aphrodite or maybe Persephone, curvy but slim, athletic and classically beautiful and the last one is a fierce-looking girl from my district who has an intense gaze. She won't recognize me. I only know her because once on a family visit from the academy she stole some fish from the market and got arrested by a peacekeeper, so no reason why'd she know me. The careers are watching me like I'm prey. I smile to myself. Reminds me of old times back in the academy.

"Who's that?" the Aphrodite demands sounding jealous.

"Oh, this is Hermia. Hermia Crane", Cato replies plainly.

"Crane? As in…" the small girl starts, at the same time looking me up and down.

"Seneca Crane's daughter", Cato finishes.

The girl bursts out in laughter:

"You for real?"

The skinny guy puts his head in his hands looking amused and the rest of them just look at us judgingly. I turn to Cato but he looks as confused as I am so I take the lead.

"You want proof?" I challenge the small girl.

"Well, yeah", she sneers.

I pull my new ID out of my purse and pass it to her. She looks at it for a moment and gives me a half smile:

"Not bad."

The Greek goddess snatches the ID from the small girl's hands and looks at it as if trying to see if it's fake. The guy next to him peers at the ID briefly and then turns his gaze to me. I don't look away so we just stare at each other in silence.

"Give it here", the girl from my district sighs and the goddess throws it to her, "Yeah, she's real, so we're pass that? Now wanna smoke some?"

"Hell yeah", Cato cheers and goes to sit with the classical beauty.

The girl stands up and positions herself in Cato's lap resting her head on his chest. I just stand there awkwardly until Cato gestures me to sit beside him and the beauty. I squeeze in between them and the small girl.

"I'm Clove", the small girl says and offers me a joint.

I put it to my lips and she lights it. I breathe in the smoke and it tickles my throat. Soon the sweet smell of marijuana fills the whole room as the joint is passed to everyone. Cato and the beauty are cramped in a corner all over each other, the skinny boy and the district 4 girl lie on the bed and chat enthusiastically about fighting techniques and I sit on the floor with Clove drinking some kind of anise liquor which she has stolen from the kitchens.

"So how come you know Cato?" Clove asks smirking.

"We met on the roof today" I reply feeling a bit giddy.

Clove slams her palm to her thigh and laughs:

"That's so like him! He just met you was like: hey, wanna join and be my new thing? And then he just grabbed you and brought you here, am I right?

"Yeah, that was pretty much it though Cato seems to be pretty occupied with something else", I point out and glance in the direction of the two lovebirds.

"Oh, Glimmer. She just fools around with everything that moves, you name it. For fuck's sake, I wouldn't even be surprised if she had banged a fucking goat", Clove gloats.

"Well, then Cato and Glimmer must be perfect for eachother", I remark, "Have you ever…? Umm..."

Clove snorts and answers:

"I've hit it once with Glimmer when we were both drunk but Cato… I've known him way too long to be affected by his pretty boy charm. We're both from the same district, you see."

"Oh right", I response and take a gulp from the liquor bottle.

It tastes delicious and kind of liquorice-y. The skinny guy comes to us and asks if we have an empty bottle. Clove empties one of them and yells:

"Now you do!"

The guy laughs and asks us to play "spin the bottle". We agree and Clove separates Cato and Glimmer and forces them to join. We form a circle and put the bottle in the middle.

"Marvel, go first. This was your idea", Glimmer says gleefully to the skinny guy.

"You know, this is called "spin the bottle", Glimmer" the guy remarks knowingly.

"Well, spin the bottle then", the 4 girl says impatiently.

Marvel sighs and spins the bottle. It lands on me, of course.

"Truth or dare?" Marvel asks with a grin.

"Dare", I announce and give my most confident smile.

"Kiss Cato."


	2. The Party's Over

Both Glimmer and I glare at Clove but she just smirks looking self-satisfied. Cato and Marvel share a meaningful glance.

“Just do it, Hermia”, Clove urges me and pokes me with her elbow. 

I poke her back but move closer to Cato who is just waiting with a conceited smile on his face. I really want to punch him but instead I cup his face and try to kiss him gently which doesn’t really succeed because he basically attacks my mouth with his violent lips and slippery tongue. The kiss is actually okay until he bites my lip so hard it starts to bleed. I pull away as fast as I can and look at Cato loathingly.

“What the hell?” I shout and spit the blood out of my mouth.

“Gross! You’re making a mess!” Glimmer squeals. 

“You’re going to pay for that”, I threaten Cato, “and so are you”, I add turning to Clove.

“Chill. It’s only a bit of blood”, Clove tries to calm me down.

“Yeah, well”, I respond dryly and keep glaring at Cato. 

I spin the bottle and it lands on Marvel. He chooses dare as well. 

“Punch Cato in the face”, I blurt out before anyone has time to react.

Clove and the girl from 4 burst out in laughter and I high-five with them. I can’t be mad at Clove anymore. She was just playing the game, Cato, on the other hand, I can be angry with. What an idiot.

“Sorry, man”, Marvel apologizes before punching Cato.

“Fucker!” Cato shouts and swings his fist at Marvel’s face missing it just slightly.

“Cato, chill. It’s just a little bit of blood”, I gloat.

“Hey, that was my line”, Clove reminds me looking amused.

“Sorry”, I apologize trying to sound sweet.

The bottle spins again and then it’s Glimmer’s turn.

“Truth”, she says pretending to be bored.

“Fuck, marry, kill”, Marvel states.

“Fine. I’d fuck Cato because he’s the handsome one here, marry you because I’ve known you the longest and kill Hermia because I find her a bit annoying. No offense”, Glimmer explains.

“None taken”, I smile and Glimmer returns it.

Then she spins the bottle and it lands on Clove who takes dare.

“Please, let me take my revenge on her”, I ask with a sly smile.

“Go ahead”, Clove provokes me as the others stay silent.

“Okay, do you have any music here?” I ask.

“Yeah”, Clove replies, “why?”

“I’ll blindfold you and you’re going slow dance with someone and try to guess who it is only by using touch”, I tell her.

“Some music, please” she demands.

The district 4 girl takes off her scarf and covers Clove’s eyes with it as Marvel puts the music on. I dress in Marvel’s jacket and take off my heels so it’s harder to recognize me. As I start to dance with Clove, Glimmer snickers but Cato silences her with a “shh”. I close my eyes and surrender to the soothing melody. I feel safe and content spinning and swirling with the music in Clove’s slender arms. A smile creeps to my face but suddenly I feel sad because I realize, she’s going to die just like all the others, except one who will become a victor like my brother Seale or my would-have-been mentor Finnick. Speak of the devil, Finnick bursts into the room followed by the little boy from 4.

 

“Okay, children. It’s way past your bedtime”, Finnick tells us.

I get out of Clove’s arms and help her take off the blindfold. Everybody else is staring at the little boy disapprovingly.

“Come on. The party’s over. Time to go home”, Finnick continues and everyone kind of snaps out of it and starts leaving.

On the way out Cato makes a few threats to the 4 boy before Finnick pushes him out of the doorway.

“Watch it!” Cato snaps and Finnick turns to glare at him with all his might.

“No, you watch it, boy. You have any idea who I am? Finnick Odair, the man who won the Hunger Games at the age of 14. So if you piss me off, then you just watch your back”, Finnick says looking amused. 

Cato grunts in frustration and storms out to the aisle where Glimmer has already gone. Clove rolls her eyes eyes and follows him lazily.

“Wait!” I scream after them taking Marvel’s jacket off me. Finnick glances at me slightly annoyed and takes the jacket and passes it forward.

“Sorry”, I tell Finnick.:

“It’s okay. Just don’t do it again”, he chuckles.

I nod and give him a half smile.

“By the way, which district are you from? You don’t look familiar”, Finnick suddenly questions.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m Crane’s daughter, Hermia”, I response tiredly.

Finnick’s face stiffens as he realizes which Crane I’m talking about. He wishes me good night and leads me out. I walk carelessly to the elevator and greet the avox. She answers with a smile and shows me in. I give her the order and she takes me to the roof. I get some of the fresh air and clear my head a bit. As I’m sobering up I start feeling morose. I can’t stop thinking about the games and all the dead tributes. That or the decreasing alcohol level in my blood makes me nauseated. Time to go home. I get to the right floor and try to find my keys as quickly as possible. I really need to throw up. I finally find them and get the hotel room door open. I face the death glare of the head gamemaker.

“Where have you been?” he asks overly calm.

I signal him to wait and head to the bathroom to vomit. After I’m done I drink a glass of water and then return under the gaze of Mr. Crane. I sit on our bed opposite to him and rest my head on my left arm.

“I was so worried”, Crane speaks out.

“I know”, I response unapologetically.

Crane sighs and takes me in his arms.

“Where were you?” he repeats with a pained expression.

“As I said before, I went to take a stroll”, I answer coolly.

“Yes but I thought you’d just go see the aisles or the roof or something like that. You’ve obviously been somewhere else. And what happened to your lip? It looks a bit swollen”, Crane rants with a worried tone.

“I’m sorry. Now could we talk about this tomorrow?” I say more harshly than I intend to.

“Fine. Good night, Hermia”, he complies.

“It’s not Hermia and you know it”, I snap and get out of Crane’s reach.

“You need to get used to that name”, he says distantly and and gets up.

He wanders to the window and opens it letting the cool night air fill the room. It makes me shiver. I walk to Crane and hug him from behind. He doesn’t take notice of it, just stands there quietly in his own thoughts. I breathe in his smell which kind of resembles the scent of bergamot with a hint of nutmeg. I place a kiss on Crane’s nape. He quivers and turns to gaze at me with his piercing blue eyes. I let him take off my dress and carry me to bed. Crane undresses and gets on top of me. He peels off my stockings and underwear and starts to leave trails of kisses on my neck and upper body. We share a 20 minutes of frail touches, ragged breaths and clouding desire that comes lurking in without a sound and eats you up inside.We lie in each other’s arms naked and vulnerable, still out of breath and slightly flushed. Everything feels a bit foggy, just like time and space didn’t exist or like the world had went a bit awry. It feels like we’re just floating in nothingness for forever. I’d like that. It sounds so serene. I smile to myself wistfully as I realize the peculiar feeling is probably just the pot and nothing more.

“What are you smiling at?” Crane asks softly.

“Nothing really. I’m just happy”, I tell him.

Crane climbs out of the bed and leaves me feeling deserted. I crawl under the covers for warmth and security. Crane smokes a mint-scented cigarette in front of the window trying to keep the smoke out but without a great success. What does it matter though? I still have to sleep next to him. I close my eyes and fall into my thoughts. Now that I think of it, I don’t believe Crane smoked before he met me. I guess he started a couple of days after he took me to the Capitol. If there wasn’t enough stress as the head gamemaker, now there was with all this secrecy and fear of getting caught. What if Crane actually loves me? He’s putting everything at risk for me, his job, his position, probably even his life. Then again, we’re talking about Seneca Crane here. No way. He must have other reasons. I just haven’t figured them out yet. I feel Crane returning to bed and getting under the covers.

“Good night, Lynn”, he whispers thinking I’m already asleep.

The next day I spend most of the day inside treating my hangover. After Crane has finished his day at work, he takes me shopping. It’s the first time I actually go out after I was smuggled to the Capitol by train. We visit loads of little boutiques and clothing stores where Crane buys me all the ritzy, colorful clothes I choose no matter what they cost. At first it’s fun but then I start to feel kinda cheap in my high heels and shimmering makeup looking like a painted Capitol whore. Crane looks at me from head to toe as if trying to decide if he should buy me or not.

“Spin”, Crane demands and I obey like the well-behaved daughter should.

“Oh, that’s marvellous!” our personal shopper shrieks excitedly, “That crimson really suits her skin.” 

“We’ll take it”, Crane agrees, “or, Hermia, what do you think?”

“Yeah, it’s fine” I reply plainly.

The personal shopper gives me his 2000-kilowatt smile and leads us to the counter. Crane pays with his card and after that we leave the shop. As we’re getting into his car I declare:

“I want a job.”

“You don’t need one, dear”, Crane answers with a sugary voice.

I swallow my annoyance and response just as sweetly:

“Well, what about school then, dad?”

Crane smiles quickly and grants:

“Sure. I’ll arrange it. After the Games.”

We get into the car and start to head home. I sigh and fall into a coma-like state where I can’t see or hear anything but my own thoughts. In unknown amount of time Crane tells the driver to stop the car. We’re back. At the hotel room I collapse on our bed dead-tired. 

“So how did you like it?” Crane inquires.

After pondering on it for a minute, I answer:

“It’s a bit overwhelming. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

He nods understandingly and sits next to me.

“So about last night…” he starts carefully.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have stayed that long. I just got a bit carried away”, I try to apologize.

I wait for Crane to say something but he doesn’t so I continue:

“I actually went to the rooftop. There I met one of the tributes, a boy from district 2 and we kind of talked. He asked me if I wanted to meet some of his friends, or well tributes. And I agreed and went with him to the floor where district 4 tributes stay. We were there for a while and then we kinda got busted by Finnick who then drove us out. But before you say anything, note this, I told everybody I’m your daughter so there shouldn’t be any problem.”

Crane clears his throat and demands:

“Well, what did you do, you and the tributes?”

“Umm, we talked and smoked some pot”, I reply.

“And what, did you accidentally bite your own lip?” he lashes out.

“Oh, that. It was just a stupid dare”, I assert.

“I see”, Crane states coldly.

“You know, I really need some air. It’s damn stuffy here”, I say wanting to get out of the situation.

“Open the window”, he suggests tiredly.

“It doesn’t help. We’ve already tried that”, I claim subtly. 

“Fine, go out then. Take a walk on the roof”, Crane grunts.

“Thanks, I’ll be back in 15 minutes” I assure and plant a kiss on his cheek.

On the rooftop I find Cato standing on the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like my story. Please review. I'm open to criticism. :)


	3. Sneaking Out

“You can’t jump, you know” I point out.

“Oh, it’s you”, Cato remarks plainly, “Nice dress.”

“Thanks. Dad bought it for me”, I play my part.

“It’s weird to hear someone call the head gamemaker ‘dad’”, Cato chuckles.

I give him a half smile and step closer to him.

“Do you ever get afraid?” I blurt out.

“What? Me? No, never”, he assures looking at me starkly.

“You don’t have to be so defensive. I just thought…” I muse.

“What?” Cato snaps.

“About the Games. I just… I thought that…” I stammer, “Stop glaring at me! It’s making me nervous.”

Cato sighs angrily and runs his hands through his hair.

“If I die, I die, okay”, he spits out and we fall into an awkward silence.

“How’s Clove?” I break it.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Cato suggests frankly.

“When can I?” I ask.

“Tomorrow after the private training sessions. We’re the second ones so we have almost the whole day off. Feel free to pay a visit”, he says with his signature smirk. 

I realize I’ve kind of missed it. 

“Not sure if I’m allowed to come there”, I note.

“Just flash that ID of yours. Then it’ll be just fine”, Cato reassures.

“Right. Well, see you then.”, I comply and wave him goodbye.

“See you.”, he answers.

In the morning at 9 am, I eat a generous breakfast with Crane. We have eggs, bacon and waffles with maple syrup. 

“You know, when the Games start I’m going to be pretty tied up with work”, Crane states.

“I know.”, I reply carelessly.

“I don’t really have time to look after you so I was thinking about getting you an avox”, he explains.

“Oh”, I answer not knowing how to react.

“So you’re okay with that? It’ll be just for a few weeks”, Crane ensures.

“Yeah, why not?” I agree taking a sip of my orange juice.

“Good”, he says sternly.

Crane leaves for the private sessions at 9.30 so he’s there a little bit early. I use the rest of the morning exploring different parts of the hotel. The floors look all the same. The walls and the floor are lined with the same red velvety fabric and the roof is natural white, probably the only “natural” thing in the whole Capitol. On the bottom floor there is the info counter, the common dining hall and a parlour where some of the employees are taking a break. I go sit on one of the tacky design sofas in the parlour. No one pays attention to my presence so I just observe. I decide to ask the blue-skinned lady at the counter if she could provide me pen and paper. She gives them to me with a big smile. I go back to my spot and start taking notes. 

There's a middle-aged man wearing a golden wig with silver streaks and a rainbow colored jacket matching his shoes. He has plain black suit pants and a white collar shirt with black buttons. His face is powdered white and his lips and eyelids are painted orange. The man is writing something on his computer. On the other side of the room there’s a younger woman who’s wearing a short black dress, a big metallic necklace and fake eyelashes. Her pastel blue hair is tied to a bun consisting of many small braids. This time I’m not sure if it’s a wig or not. The woman leaning against the wall is constantly looking at her watch. She’s probably waiting for someone. A child walks past looking for her father. She has brown hair and a green princess dress. The lady at the info makes an announcement:

“Otillie Ivory is at the info counter. Nimmo Ivory, please come to the info counter.”

About a 30-year-old man and woman sit opposite to me. They are discussing the weather. It’s rainy outside. Both are wearing pretty simple outfits compared to the others. The woman is in all blue and the man in all black. They both have a lots of white powder on their skin and black kohl lining their eyes. The man with the golden wig leaves and heads to the dining hall.

“Otillie Ivory is at the info counter. Nimmo Ivory, please come to the info counter”, the announcement is repeated.

A young man with a vibrant green suit comes to get the woman who was waiting. They hug cheerily and leave the hotel holding hands. Nimmo Ivory comes to the info and hugs Otillie. He then thanks the info lady and leaves with the girl. I stop writing and look at the watch on the wall. It’s 10.30 am. I return the pen to the info and decide to inspect the dining room. It’s venom green with big black circles on the walls. The round tables are blue and yellow. There’s few people dining because it’s so early, a girl with a pink milkshake, an old man eating a salad and a party of five eating stakes. Behind the encounter there’s a man looking pretty fed up with life. In the kitchens behind him works a few avoxes cleaning and cooking. I greet the man politely. He just nods and asks for the order. I take a coffee with milk and sugar. I wait about 15 minutes and when it’s ready I head for one of the yellow tables trying not to spill any. The mission succeeds as I get safely to the table. I sip the coffee idly and stare at emptiness thinking about the Games. 

I remember the terrible anxiousness and worry five years ago when watching my brother Seale on screen making a kill, one after another, surviving the thirst and the heat, fighting for his life. The image of Seale’s bruised face and broken body still haunts me. I also remember the overwhelming relief when the girl from 11 collapsed just before Seale did and made him the victor of the 69th Hunger Games. I cried when he returned home. Even though he told me not to, I couldn’t stop. He pointed out, I didn’t look pretty when I cried and I was embarrassing him in front of everyone. I didn’t care. I just kept hugging him wishing to never let go. Of course, eventually I had to. It’s weird to think that he was the same age as I am now. I would have never survived, not in the desert, not in any of the Games. Somehow I’m really glad that Crane has been the head gamemaker only for three years. I just feel that if he’d designed the arena that almost killed my brother, I could never forgive all the terrible things he’s done. Even though he was probably in the business already, he didn’t give any of the orders so that makes it all okay, right? Hah, even I don’t believe that. Anyhow I still can’t bring myself to hate Crane, even if I wanted to. He’s just as much a piece in President Snow’s game as the tributes are in his. In some way I wish Crane could be saved or whatever. I know it sounds ridiculous but that’s just a crazy idea that has formed in my head by itself. If I could I’d take Crane away with me from all this madness, just like he took me from mine. I know he probably doesn’t want to be saved but neither did I before I met him. I think we’re not so different after all, just trying to make our way in life. I smile at my own stupidity. Why am I always getting involved in things that I shouldn’t or trying to fix things that aren’t meant to be fixed? Oh, Lynn, what are you going to do with yourself? Maybe for once I should just go with the flow and see what happens. Can’t be worse than when I intervene.

I look at the time. It’s almost half twelve so Clove and Cato are probably done already. I stand up and get to the elevator idly. The red-haired avox takes me to the roof and I just change the elevator without even glancing at the view. A dark-skinned woman takes me to the second floor. A bald brutish man and a tall muscular woman are sitting in front of the TV screen watching some reruns of the previous game. I don’t see Clove nor Cato anywhere so I take my chances. I clear my throat and start speaking trying to be as convincing as possible:

“Excuse me.”

Both pair of eyes shoot up at me. They look disapproving.

“What?” the man grunts.

“I am Hermia Crane, Mr. Seneca Crane’s daughter and I am running an errand of his. I am here to see the tributes from district 2”, I announce formally and flash my ID so quickly that the man and the woman can barely see what it’s saying.

“Oh, what do they want now?” the woman sighs, “They’re in the dining room that way.”

The man eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you”, I smile artificially and head to the pointed direction.

I go through a long hallway that’s identical to the one in four, shiny black walls and a blue parquet. At the end of it I turn right and see Clove and Cato dining with their escort who’s a middle-aged woman with a yellow satin dress and a big purple wig. Clove and Cato smirk at me as their escort stands up with a surprised expression. 

“Who are you, miss?” she inquires with a thick Capitol accent.

“Hermia Crane, Mrs, the daughter of Mr. Seneca Crane. I have some private business with the tributes”, I reel of the story again.

“Oh, I see. Well, I better be going then”, she says a bit puzzled.

“There’s no need for that. If you allow me, I’d rather take the tributes with me”, I insist.

“Oh, right. Well, off you go then, dears”, the escort rushes Clove and Cato looking worried.

“Thank you. This will only take a few hours”, I assure soothingly.

“Few hours?” she squeals, “Please, excuse me for asking but what do you need our tributes for?”

“I am very sorry but I am not allowed to say”, I apologize.

“Of course”, she breathes out and sinks back into her chair.

I feel a bit bad for worrying the woman so much but it’ll be okay when I return Clove and Cato unharmed. We leave the room silently and walk to the elevator. As it starts moving we almost instantly burst out in laughter.

“They might still hear us”, I try to shush Clove and Cato.

“Who cares?” Clove snorts and cracks up again.

“Seriously I never thought you would’ve been such a good actor”, Cato chuckles.

“Thanks? I guess”, I reply feeling a bit queasy.

Is he on to me? It can’t be. Most likely I’m just being paranoid. I brush the uncomfortable feeling off. 

We get out on the roof and hop into the other elevator.

“So where are we going?” Clove asks after a while.

“You ever been out?” I grin.

“No”, she answers slowly.

Cato just shakes his head and chuckles:

“You’re unbelievable, really.”

“No need to flatter me, thanks”, I response with an arched eyebrow.

“That wasn’t actually a compliment”, he points out.

I roll my eyes and turn to Clove:

“What do you want to do? Go to a café, shopping or what?” I start listing.

“Let’s just get some coffee”, Cato blurts out.

I keep my eyes on Clove and give her a questioning look.

“Sure”, she agrees.


	4. The Moth and The Flame

The elevator stops and we walk to the lobby. Both Clove and Cato look kind of astonished but they keep quiet. There’s more people on a break just hanging around or having lunch. Everybody looks bored just like everyone in the Capitol.That’s what I’ve learned so far besides the crazy sense of fashion. Even the ones who seem to be hanging out keep constantly glancing at their watches. It makes me smile bitterly. Even though we have to work our asses off, we still know how to have fun in district 4. 

There is the blue soothing ocean, the white sand beaches and the annual Fish Festival which gathers a lot of tourists from the Capitol, one of the reasons why 4 is so wealthy compared to the other districts. That’s how I met Crane in the first place. He was sitting under a parasol drinking a fruit cocktail and wearing this ridiculous green suit even though it was 85 degrees outside, just one of the Capitol morons thinking he’s observing and experiencing the typical life of the common folk. Then he turned his head, just a bit to the right, so he’s silhouette reflected dimly on the burning sand. There was something noble about the reflection, a stern chin and a perfectly shaped nose but still a lazy posture that looked like as if the man had all the time in the world, no hurries, no worries, just a perfect world with happiness and love, a perfect world with peace and serenity, a perfect world without the Games. After gazing at the man’s shadow for an unknown amount of time, I wanted more. I wanted to see the real thing. Who was this figure of tranquility? I tried to get a look at the man’s face but he was too far away. I moved idly a little bit closer and chose a good angle to peer at him without anyone noticing. The spot I chose was under a tall palm tree where I could lurk in the shadows and just watch. I peered at my target and there was this one detail that really stood out, his beard. It was short but shaved in an intricate design. As I studied the artful conception I realized who has the exactly same beard. I snickered. What a loser. Who the hell would want to have the same beard as the famous Mr. Seneca Crane? That’s just plain weird. Sure, it’s a nice beard but still, be a little more original. I don’t know if the copycat heard me laughing or something but he turned his head towards me. I was discovered. As he examined me with his burning stare, I realized the copycat wasn’t exactly a copycat. He was in fact Mr. Seneca Crane. I froze and a big lump started to form in my throat. A small voice in my head was telling me to get lost as long as it was still a possibility. Still I just sat there under the tree staring back at Crane, not moving, not saying a word. His lips curved into a sly smile.

“Got you”, he remarked playfully.

I gave him a short awkward laugh and turned my eyes away from his. I felt my face burning up and I knew it wasn’t because of the sun. I tried to act as normal as possible and just chill in the shadow minding my own thoughts which were unfortunately clouded by the unpleasant interaction with the probably second most evil human being on the planet, the head gamemaker. I felt very uncomfortable and not normal at all. I wanted to get as far away as possible from the gamemaker but my pride wouldn’t allow it. This was our beach, a beach which belonged to district 4 not to the Capitol or Snow or least to Crane. I had this uncontrollable desire to peek at his direction and see if he was still paying attention to me. The need for that information disgusted me. Even though I really didn’t want to look I did and thankfully, Crane’s gaze was turned towards the sea. I swallowed the big lump in my throat and disappeared with no sound. I entered the bar which my sister Genna was running for the festival. I greeted her with a smile and ordered a glass of white wine. 

“It’s on the house”, Genna said cheerily.

I thanked her and went to sit with some of the girls. If I remember the names correctly, they were Marissa, Lausie, Erwyna or Erwine, Beverlee and Tal, not that it matters. I’m never going to see them again unless of course they get chosen tributes. The thought gives me shivers. Anyway I hang out with them and forgot all about Crane until he walked in. I know right. Unbelievable. 

“It’s Seneca Crane, the gamemaker”, Lausie gasped. 

“Don’t say it so loud”, I shushed her.

The other girls started to giggle.

“I give two tesserae to the one who hits on him” Marissa dared ”plus a tequila if it works.”

“No need for tesserae, darling. Otherwise I’d definitely do it”, Tal claimed.

“Well, maybe we should let someone who really is in need to do the dare”, Lausie suggested looking at me meaningfully.

“How about it?” Marissa asked casually.

“I’ll do it”, I stated boldly and stood up from my seat.

“Oh my god. She’s actually going to do it!” Erwhatever squealed excitedly.

I ignored the comment and walked confidently to Crane.

“Hi, you were on the beach”, I noted.

“Oh, the girl under the palm tree. What a coincidence!” he stated surprised.

I laughed heartily and sat on the stool next to him. As he ordered two Piña Coladas I gave the girls a wink who were just staring at us in awe. I was thrilled to give the girls a taste of their own medicine. 

“So what’s your name?” he asked handing me my drink.

“Lynn”, I answered and took a sip.

Crane has a good taste.

“I’m Seneca”, he introduced himself.

“I know”, I pointed out with a flirtatious smile.

He returned it and drank from the glass. I started questioning him about the Capitol and he told me everything I’d ever wanted to know. It all sounded so bizarre and incredible at the same time. It may also have been the way he told me about it, every little tone and pitch of his voice made everything sound compelling. Crane’s deep blue eyes and alluring scent got me mesmerized. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame waiting to be burned alive. The night ended and it was time to leave. I left with Crane. He led me to the Victor’s Village to a brown mansion just 165 feet away from my house. Crane digged out clumsily the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He held out the door for me like a real gentleman and let me go in first. I put on the lights and took in the view, a cozy rustic-like apartment with a lots of doors. 

“So this is where I stay”, Crane stated festively.

“It’s actually homely, no Capitol Couture”, I chuckled, “didn’t they furnish it for you?”

“No”, he murmured and stepped a little too close to me.

“Aha”, I muttered with a foggy head.

Crane ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me softly. He tasted like rum.

“How old are you?” he then whispered to my ear.

“18”, I answered out of breath.

Crane nodded and took my hand to lead me to a massive bedroom which had a cream-colored flower tapestry and old paintings on the wall. From the window that was framed by brown cotton curtains, was a sullen view to the silent night of the Victor’s Village. The bed was massive as well. I counted in my mind that almost my whole family could’ve fit there. The image made me smile. Crane draw the curtains in front of the view and I collapsed on the bed. It was very comfortable. I closed my eyes and dwell on the moment. My head was spinning a bit, in a good way. I had the same state of mind as I had imagined the owner of the reflection having on the beach. I felt ecstatic and peaceful at the same time just forgetting all my surroundings and surrendering myself to the cloudiness in my head. When I eventually opened my eyes, I met Crane’s lingering gaze. I sat up crossing my legs and resting my palms on my knees. Crane dimmed the lights by pressing one off the switches and leaned on the night table. 

“Wine?” he proposed.

“It’s okay” I declined hastily letting my hair down from a ponytail.

We shared a moment of silence until I broke it:

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“No, it’s not that”, he chuckled tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, “I just want to remember this scene as clearly as I can.”

“Why?” I question.

Crane laughed again and his amusement was really starting to annoy me.

“Do I look funny to you?” I sneered.

“You look good”, he assured carelessly.

“Come here”, I suggested looking at Crane invitingly.

And let’s just say that that night I really deserved my tequila and the two tesserae which of course, I never actually got because the next day I disappeared forever from district 4.


	5. Story Time

I snap out of my thoughts realizing that we have been just walking aimlessly across the Capitolian streets even though we were suppose to be heading to a nice café. 

“This is it”, I declare stopping in front of a random café.

“Oh, finally. I thought we’d be walking forever”, Cato sighs.

“I thought you’d be in better shape”, I comment caustically. 

Cato just gives me a death glare and marches into the coffee shop. Clove and I exchange amused glances and follow Cato sluggishly. We choose a corner table which has comfy armchairs to sit in and go order coffee from the perky cashier. We sit back at our table and an avox brings us the coffee in 20 minutes. The coffee’s too sugary for my taste but otherwise okay. We discuss a little too carelessly about the life in district 2 and the life in the Capitol forgetting we shouldn’t know anything about the reality in districts. I try to avoid the subject of my life in the Capitol. I just don’t like lying to Clove. For about an hour all goes well but then Cato asks me about Crane:

“How is your dad?”

Both Cato and Clove are staring at me looking dangerously curious.

“Well, you’ve seen him. He operates the games”, I answer opaquely. 

“No, Hermia, not like that”, Cato grumbles.

“Yeah, what’s he really like? He must be completely different at home”, Clove adds.

“Well”, I stammer, “he’s very overprotective and stressed out but even though it’s sometimes hard to believe it, I know he loves me.”

In reality I don’t know. I really do want to believe in love. I also want a pet dragon and a never ending box of chocolates. Yeah, that’s how real love seems to me.

“No, that’s not what we want”, Clove points out as if it was obvious.

“Yeah, give us some dirt”, Cato pressures.

I sigh deeply and after taking big gulp of my coffee I tell:

“I don’t know what you want. I have nothing to say.”

Well, I could tell Cato and Clove that Crane didn’t actually have a daughter but a secret lover whom he had taken with him just like a souvenir from district 4.

“Oh, you do know”, Cato urges me.

“If she doesn’t want to say, she won’t” Clove scolds him.

“Buzzkill”, Cato starts to mutter under his breath until Clove cuts in:

“But it would be really, really nice if you would, Hermia.”

“Dad has a pet cactus”, I state.

Clove spits the coffee out of her mouth and starts laughing uncontrollably.

“Does it have a name?” Cato asks looking amused.

“Yes”, I answer fearfully.

I don’t want to embarrass Crane. Completely. Cato smiles at me knowingly enjoying my torment like a true career.

“Medusa”, I spit out.

“Huh?” Clove utters.

“The cactus”, I say casually.

“Medusa the cactus”, Clove states trying to keep a straight face.

I nod giving nothing away. Cato just stares at me curiously. His expression puzzles me. I’m not sure if he’s amused or loathing or just as confused as I am.

“Are pet cactuses like a thing here or what?” Cato asks after a while.

“Not exactly”, I tell him and take a big gulp of my coffee.

Cato smiles at me amusedly and I return the smile. Clove just stares at us in disbelief. After a while she stops and snickers to herself as if being the only sane one in our table.

“Now that you know about Medusa, what dark secrets do you carry?” I ask festively.

“I’m an open book. You just have to read me right, baby”, Cato jokes and gives me a wink.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” I snort.

After a battle of stares, I add challengingly:

“Wouldn’t you? Baby?”

Cato’s lips curve out in a gleeful smile.

“You wanna hear my secret, huh?” he asks with a scary glint in his eyes.

“I think I need to go to the bathroom”, Clove announces and disappears around the corner as if she’s afraid of the words what’s going to come out of Cato’s mouth.

“Oh honey, I’m waiting”, I say sarcastically.

“You sure you can handle it? I’ve got some dark secrets indeed”, he beams.

“Yeah, so dark and terrible things” I start dramatically and then turn my speech to a whisper, “terrible things I couldn’t even dream of.” 

“Yes, so terrible that I can’t say them out loud. But if you really need to know, then come closer so I can whisper them to you”, Cato asks with a sinister smile.

I’m sure he’s up to something but I ignore the feeling in my gut and play along. I lean over a bit.

“Come on closer. I don’t bite”, he teases me.

I scoff at the memory of the terrible kiss and then mouth the words “fuck you”. As I don’t make the move, Cato does. He leans over leaving just a couple of inches between his mouth and my ear and whispers: 

“My mother tried to kill me when I was eleven.”

The words send shivers down my spine. Definitely not what I expected.

“You want me to go on?” Cato questions his breath tickling my ear.

I want to pull away but I don’t dare. Instead I let him continue:

“About eighteen years and three months ago my dad volunteered even though my mom was five months pregnant with me. He thought he would’ve been a victor, a father to be proud of when his first son was born. He failed mom and left us. Mom went crazy but my uncle made sure that I was sent to the combat academy after I was born. Just before I was turning twelve I visited mum on winter holiday. She seemed fine so my uncle decided that It’d be okay for me to stay the night. We had a nice family dinner and everything but after I’d already gone to bed, mum woke me up to say good night. She hugged me and then...”

Suddenly Cato starts to demonstrate strangling on me. I gasp in fright and tear his arms away from me.

“Easy!” Cato urges me, “I wasn’t really strangling you.”

“I’m sorry. I mean I’m not sorry. You’re the one who… I mean please, go on”, I babble and look around quickly to see if anyone’s watching us. 

Luckily no one pays attention.

“Where was I?” Cato asks softly leaning towards me, “Right. My mom tried to kill me.”

“Right”, I reply sullenly.

“Well, obviously she didn’t succeed. I’m still here”, he points out, “I got out of her grip and ran to the streets in the middle of the night. I tried to head to my uncle’s house but got lost so after awhile I gave up and sat on a bench trying to figure out what to do. It was freezing since it was the winter break. I knew I had to go somewhere. That’s when I heard a girl’s voice. I wasn’t sure what it was saying but I heard something, alright. I turned to the direction where the voice came from and saw a very faint figure of a small girl. She came to me cautiously and asked what I was doing there. I explained my situation and she agreed to take me to her secret fort which was actually her dad’s workhouse.”

“Who was the girl?” I ask carefully.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? That’s how I met Clove”, Cato answers and leans back using his arms as a pillow, “Well, anyway she became like a little sister to me and all that. But the point was, after I turned twelve my uncle gave me a talk about the Games. Of course, I had learned everything I needed to know in the academy but there was one thing I hadn’t heard about my dad. My uncle told me why my mum had wanted me dead. He explained that mum loved me very much and was just worried about me. She was worried that I’d face the same fate as dad had, that I’d die in the Games. I was confused and wanted to know more about dad. My uncle told me about him but that just wasn’t enough. I wanted something concrete, something real, a picture or something. My uncle told me that mum had insisted on destroying everything that would remind her of dad. So day after day I kept asking and begging for more information and finally one day my uncle broke. He agreed to show me flicks of my dad’s Games. It was the 53rd Hunger Games. The arena, it was an island. One of those windy, rainy islands where there’s fog all the time and the surface is covered with hills and rocks good for the prey to hide behind. One night one of the prey, the guy from 7, you may have heard of him, Blight. He sneaked to the careers’ camp and tried to steal some food and an axe. He got pretty far unnoticed ‘till he stumbled on a root or something. That’s when dad woke up and went after Blight. He thought he could take Blight on his own so he didn’t wake the others. Blight ran for a while but with the food and the axe, he couldn’t keep it up for long Dad caught him and pinned him to the ground.”

At this point Cato’s eyes are getting glassed. I try to get a glimpse from his thoughts but they seem to be wandered off in a whole different time and space. It’s like he can see the arena right in front of his eyes.

“You’re not such a clever little thief are you?” Cato mimics his father’s words, “You know, stealing is bad manners.”

Cato seems to snap out of it for a second. He searches for my eyes and I glance at his mesmerized.

“Do you still want me to go on?” Cato asks faintly.

I just nod and keep my stare fixed on the icy blue eyes.

“Blight who had seemed to give up, had only been recovering and was now in his full strength. Blight pushed dad off him with a swift attack of raw power. Dad had dropped his sword and as he was trying to reach it, Blight was already on his feet. Blight swung the axe and cut out dad’s arm from elbow with a single strike. Oh, you should’ve seen the blood. The next strike was aimed at the head but ‘cause dad tried to dodge it hit his shoulder blade. It’s almost a miracle that Blight didn’t chop the other arm off right then and there. The axe got stuck so dad had time to get a hold of his sword but fighting with his left hand didn’t go so well. As dad tried to strike Blight, Blight got the axe out and started swinging it like a madman. First it chopped off his nose and made a deep cut on his chin, then his other arm came off and finally his legs. Dad was lying there still alive even though all that was visible of him was a mass of blood and meat. He begged for Blight to kill him and he did. Blight sent two strikes through dad’s skull and ran as far as he could”, Cato describes, “When I first saw the flick, I couldn’t sleep that night. The images in my head bugged me so much, I had to see them again. I sneaked to my uncle’s living room and watched the flick over and over again. Of course, I had to watch it mute so I wouldn’t wake my uncle but otherwise than the sound, I remember every bit of it. Every frame, every cut and every angle, they’re all tattooed to my eyes. Why did I do it, you’ll probably ask. That’s how I got over the fear. The images lost their meaning. It doesn’t matter that my mom tried to kill me or that my dad was never there. I’m here. The shit that I’ve been through has just proved me that I can do anything and no one can stop me.”

“But why are you here?” I want to understand.

Cato comes to a whispering distance again and breaths out:

“I’m here to show Panem what I’m made of, iron and steel, unlike my stupid father who couldn’t even hold a sword in his hand without dropping it. I’m gonna make district 2 proud and anyone, anyone who stands in my way, I’m gonna kill.”

“What about Clove?” I ask feeling numb.

“Bad luck”, Cato sighs pulling away, “but as I said, anyone.”


	6. Not Fun And Games

I swallow the big lump formed in my throat and try to search for Clove with my eyes.

“She’s there talking to the hot waitress if you were wondering” Cato points out.

“Oh”, I mutter finding no words.

Clove notices me staring so she waves at me and returns to our table.

“Story time over, huh?” she tries to lighten the mood and sits next to Cato.

Clove peers at our faces wanting to figure out her next move. Suddenly the corners of her mouth twitch up as if she’s remembered something.

“What?” Cato asks sounding indifferent.

“It’s just…” Clove answers trying to suffocate her laughter, “Medusa the Cactus.”

I let out a faint laugh and that’s when Clove can’t hold it in anymore and starts to giggle. Even Cato is smiling a bit now. As Clove’s contagious laughter goes on and on, rest of us have to join in. I feel people staring at us but right now I don’t care. I haven’t laughed this much for a very long time. 

Oh wait, I might have when I was first introduced to Medusa. It was the day we arrived in the Capitol. At the hotel Crane started unpacking as I was still taking in the fact we were actually here. At some point I noticed that Crane was unwrapping a small cactus from a towel and some shirts that he used as a cover.

“Why would you carry that around?” I asked puzzled.

Crane’s lips curved out in a smile.

“Well, I couldn’t leave her here”, he answered and then addressed the following words to the cactus, “Could I have, Medusa? No, I couldn’t have. It was good for both of us to get some sea air.”

Crane kept talking to the cactus and I just stared at him dazed. I had no idea what was going on. I cleared my throat and got Crane’s attention.

“But it’s just a cactus”, I pointed out dumbly.

“I know most people feel that way about her but she’s very important to me. I got Medusa as a gift”, he assured me looking dead serious.

“Okay, I respect that. But her? She? Medusa? I understand when people name their dog but a cactus”, I explained.

“What is the part that you don’t understand?” Crane asked calmly.

“Well, for instance I don’t think Medusa can hear you call its name or better yet talk to it”, I tried to tell him gently.

“Oh, Lynn. That’s not the point. It’s scientifically proven that it’s good for plants to talk to them. They’re living beings just like you and me”, Crane lectured.

“Yes, but why does it have to have a name?” I asked trying to speak some sense to him.

“She’s never going to understand, is she?” he sighed to the cactus. 

“No, she isn’t”, I remarked with a faint smile.

“You must think I’m nuts”, Crane chuckled and put Medusa on the window sill. 

“No, not at all”, I assured him but burst out in laughter, “Well, maybe a bit. Or a lot but I also think that it makes you kinda adorable.”

“Adorable? I’ll take that as a compliment”, he said with a mischievous smile.

“You should”, I stated stepping closer to Crane and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I should. Shouldn’t I?” he smiled grabbing my waist and spinning me around in the air.

I screamed in surprise and started laughing after I was put down. 

“You little cheat, how dare you?” I tried to sound offended.

“You wouldn’t like me as much if I wasn’t ruthless, darling”, Crane claimed and looked me deep in the eyes.

I had a good comeback, I’m sure, but didn’t get to use it when Crane silenced me by kissing me on the mouth. I smile at the memory.

“I think we’re ready”, Clove states looking at our empty coffee mugs.

We sneak back to the training center and as we’re in the elevator passing the 4th floor, the machine stops and the door opens. The little boy from 4 steps in and looks at us as if he wants to crawl in a six foot deep hole.

“Are you going up or down?” he asks cautiously.

Cato and Clove remain silent as if they didn’t hear the boy. They’re still mad about the end of the party. The avox using the elevator signals him the direction. The door closes behind the 4 boy and we start moving down again. We stand in awkward silence until the little boy breaks it:

“Hey, I know you.”

I look around and I notice everyone staring at me.

“The brat’s talking to you, Hermia”, Cato states looking confused.

“Well, we met when I was visiting your floor. Do you mean that?” I reply to the 4 boy trying to sound perfectly calm.

“No, I know you from somewhere else”, the boy claims looking at me straight in the eye.

I’m terrified but I keep my cool and note calmy:

“That’s not possible. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Yeah dumbass and why are you even talking to her?” Cato takes my side.

Before anyone gets to say anything, the doors open. We’re in the 2nd floor. Everyone just stands there looking at each other.

“If you’re not gonna go, I am”, Clove blurts out and disappears again.

As neither one of the rest of us makes a move to step out, the avox closes the doors and lets the elevator start rising up. 

“Oh! I know who you are! You’re Seale’s little sister Lynn!” the 4 boy shouts triumphantly.

Cato looks at both of us confused.

“I swear I’m telling the truth. Her real name is Lynn Chavez, not Hermia Crane and her father’s name isn’t Seneca Crane but Morgan Chavez. She’s lied to you the whole time!” the boy from 4 babbles nervously.

“Shut the fuck up!” I yell at the boy.

“What’s gotten into you, 4? You’ve lost your mind?” Cato asks raising his voice threateningly.

“I haven’t. She’s my brother’s best friend’s little sister”, the boy explains shakened.

I jump at the little boy and grab him by his collar.

“I’m a liar now, am I?” I spit in his face, “You should learn to keep your mouth shut, brat.”

“Hermia, come here”, Cato suddenly demands.

“Why?” I question.

“Just do it”, Cato urges impatiently.

I release the 4 boy and turn to Cato annoyed: “What?”

“You have to believe me”, the kid pleads.

“Won’t you shut up already?” Cato snaps still staring at me suspicion written on his face.

Suddenly he grabs me and pins me to the wall.

“Get off me!” I yelp and try to struggle myself free.

“Stand still”, he insists grasping my face and peering at me as if trying to make something out of it.

“Ouch! Stop that right now, you creep!” I yell at him angrily still trying to struggle out of his arms.

“It’s really you”, Cato exclaims letting me go and before he gets to say anything else I send a straight right to his face.

“Fuck”, Cato mutters under his breath staggering a few steps backwards and trying to apply pressure to his bleeding nose.

Both the avox and the 4 boy look terrified. I just stand there feeling the blood rushing in my head and the pain throbbing through my punching hand. In a second we’re back on the rooftop and the elevator door is opened. I march out of the door letting the cold cool my anger and turn it to fear. What if Snow finds about me and Crane? That would be the end of both of us. We’d lose our heads. I spin on my heel and witness Cato dragging the kid out of the elevator. The elevator doors close and Cato tells me to stay back. I keep silent and still. Cato takes the boy to a corner to have a conversation with him. Even though I try to listen from afar, I can’t hear a thing. The wind is making the voices drift away. I’m terrified.

After an hour long ten minutes Cato lets the 4 boy back to the elevator and approaches me looking determined.

“What did you say to him?” I ask feeling uneasy.

“He won’t be bothering you anymore”, Cato claims looking devilish.

“Good”, I state sternly and then sigh deep, “I guess you’d like to know what the hell am I doing here.”

“Well, I surely didn’t expect to see you ever again when they said you had had the terrible accident at the academy. And after that they ordered us not to ask anymore questions”, Cato tells me.

“Right, well the accident wasn’t true obviously ‘cause, you know, I’m here”, I point out.

“I get it but why? I mean why would they lie to us?” Cato muses.

“I thought that was obvious too but umm… I escaped. And they lied because you can’t know that the system is vulnerable. That would reflect really bad on President Snow”, I say lowering my voice and looking behind my back cautiously as if Snow could be standing there watching us.

Cato just gazes at me thoughtfully running his fingers through his hair. 

“And how did you do it?” he finally speaks up.

“That’s not important”, I assure him, “But you have to promise not to tell on me.”

“I won’t. But why did you do it?” he questions puzzled.

“Promise”, I try to make him swear.

“I promise”, Cato reassures me, “But why?”

“You really want to hear me say it out loud, do you? Because I’m a coward. That’s what you wanted to hear, right? I’m a damn coward. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna kill. I don’t wanna bring pride to my district. I don’t want any of that shit”, I blurt out my voice cracking a bit, “I did it because I could.”

“I’d understand if you were just one of the ordinary ones but you were on top. Why’d you throw it all away? You could’ve been something great”, Cato wonders. 

“I still can”, I claim my fighting spirit returning to me, “It’s not like being a victor is the only thing worth living for.”

“For the likes of us, it is”, Cato states grimly.

“What about family? What about friends?” I suggest my voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

“Well, you heard my story and you, you just left them behind, didn’t you? What’s left?” Cato confronts me.

“Freedom”, I breathe out feeling drained out of all my energy.

“Do you feel free?” Cato asks frankly staring me straight in the eye.

His words feel like a slap in the face.

“No, in fact I don’t but neither does my brother Seale. He did what a good son would do. He won the Games”, I hit back, “and all he got was nightmares and a broken heart. All my family has ever gained from the Games is a dead child and a boy who can’t sleep at night or stay awake at day and so much food our mother is making a charity out of it. No glory in that.”’

“Who is your brother?” Cato cuts in.

“Belladonna”, I state.

“Belladonna’s your brother? The one who made all his kills by poisoning the water?” Cato exclaims visibly amused.

“Yes, the 69th Hunger Games with the desert arena”, I spell out irritated.

“Oh, and that’s why your family wanted so much to have you as a victor. To clear your family name”, Cato says looking like he’s just gotten to the bottom of it.

“Something like that. Mom also wants more assets to her charity project. She cares about everyone else but her actual children”, I admit bleakly, “Besides I don’t get why everyone is so disappointed in Seale. In the days when I was a little 13-year-old girl dreaming of the day to volunteer myself I was actually very proud of my brother’s victory. I guess I’m still proud but in a different way. You know, my brother outwitted everyone in the Games. He survived the desert. How is that not a good victory? Others just don’t seem to see it that way. There wasn’t enough gore for the Capitolians as everyone died too quickly off the dehydration or hypothermia or the poison, not to mention.”

“What changed your mind?” Cato asks genuinely curious.

“Huh?” I response feeling lost.

“You said you used to dream of volunteering”, Cato helps out.

I ponder for a moment and answer:

“Well, many things. Firstly it wasn’t pretty seeing Seale suffer in the desert. Secondly I lost my closest sibling, Marlowe, to the Games three years ago. It wasn’t pretty either. But probably the thing that really woke me up was when I watched some of the old games. You probably know that I was to volunteer this year so I was trying to get inspired by the clips. But it kinda worked vice versa. Anyway the point is that there is so much more to the Games than what they show us in the academy. It’s not all just glorious combat and exciting hunting trips to catch the prey. It’s watching your friends die and stabbing each other in the back. In the end it’s not fun and games”.


	7. Do You Miss Home?

“I know it’s not JUST fun and games but everything has a downside for it”, Cato tries to convince me.

“Everything has a downside for it”, I repeat not understanding, “Have you been listening to anything I’ve just said?”

“Of course I have. I’m not deaf”, Cato says with a harsh tone.

“I didn’t…” I start but trail off.

“Look, I get your point but that doesn’t mean I have to agree”, Cato tries to sound reconciling.

“I guess you’re right”, I give in.

We’re silent for a moment and after awhile I open my mouth:

“Seriously, what did you say to the boy from 4?”

“Well, I promised him that if he’d talk to you ever again, I’d make sure he’d be my first kill in the arena”, Cato explains coolly.

“Oh. Thanks, I guess”, I say a little dazzled, “Is that your idea of impressing a girl?”

“Are you impressed?” he asks casually.

“What do you mean?” I ask playing dumb.

Cato’s lips curve out in a wicked smile. He knows I’m willing to play his game. Cato steps closer to me and brushes out a strand of hair from my face and leaves his palm to rest on my cheek.

“Are you impressed by me, Lynn?” he asks in a low voice.

I feel my cheeks heat up but I keep a nonchalant expression.

“Well, right now you’re making it pretty damn tough. And you still need to call me Hermia”, I remark snarkily.

“Oh, don’t be so harsh, baby”, Cato scolds as he gently grabs my waist pulling me closer to him, “You haven’t seen all I’ve got, Hermia”

“I could say the same thing to you so be careful”, I warn him.

“What could you possibly do to me?” Cato asks raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, sweetie. You have no idea”, I answer tracing his jaw with my fingers, “I have friends in the right places. I could ruin you.”

I’m technically telling the truth. Even though I don’t actually have any friends here, Crane does. 

“I’m looking forward to it”, Cato whispers in my ear and starts kissing my neck faintly.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean”, I point out.

“And I think you understand what I mean”, he laughs and keeps on planting the kisses.

“I think so”, I admit feeling a bit shaken.

Cato moves his left hand on my nape keeping his other hand on my waist and starts sucking a spot on my neck. It sends shivers down my spine.

“Shit”, I breath out hearing my voice tremble.

Cato takes it as encouragement and sucks harder. I close my eyes and let my fingers find his hair.

“Don’t leave a mark”, I tell him.

“Fine”, he sighs and pulls away.

“I didn’t say you had to stop”, I say teasingly.

“I know. I just think that I should take care of something else”, Cato clarifies as he traces my upper lip with his thumb.

“Yeah?” I urge him to make the first move.

“Yeah”, he answers with a smirk and moves his lips closer to mine, “Clearly.”

Cato closes the gap and kisses me hungrily. His mouth feels wet and hard on mine. It reminds me of the other boys from the academy, always so harsh and ruthless. Weirdly it gives me comfort. With Crane I never know what I’m doing but boys like Cato I can work with. They all want the same, to forget who they are just for a moment, not to feel so frustrated. I want the same. I want to forget how I left my family and friends for a good life in the Capitol, how I abandoned my home without looking back to be Crane’s little pet. I need to know freedom. The longer I stay here with Cato the more we get tangled in a web of timelessness. Only this moment exists. No consequences, no guilt. Every touch of Cato’s skin lights me up with radiating warmth and leaves me yearning for more. I feel like this is the cure I’ve been looking for, the treatment to fix me, the proof that I’m not Crane’s little puppet but a independent human being. I pull away from the kiss to draw breath and we stare at each other in understanding. I go with the flow this time. We get to the elevator and Cato puts his arm around me just like last time except now it’s not weird, at least that weird. I rest my head on Cato’s chest and close my eyes. I can feel his heart drumming in his chest. The sound relaxes me. I almost want to just lie next to him listening to his heartbeat until falling asleep. But I know that’s not the way with boys like him neither the way for me. As the elevator stops in the second floor I get out of Cato’s reach. I might still have to play the part. Luckily no one’s anywhere to be seen. Cato leads me to his bedroom and closes the door behind us. He sits on the huge bed and runs his fingers through his hair. I sit next to him crossing my legs. Cato looks at me starting to move his left hand on my thigh.

“What do you wanna do?” I ask turning to face him.

“A lot”, Cato answers tracing his lips with his thumb and looking threateningly sly.

I straighten my legs and rest them on Catos lap. He takes of my heels and places them on the parquet. I stand up only to sit on Cato’s lap in a face to face position. 

“What are you suggesting?” I ask tracing patterns on his chest.

“Take off your dress”, he whispers in my ear.

“Straightforward”, I chuckle getting off him, “You’ll have to help me with the zipper though.”

I turn around and let Cato unzip my dress. The dress falls heavy on the floor sparkling in the artificial yellow light. The harsh light feels unforgiving on my bare skin exposing even the slightest details of it. I resist the urge to cover myself and turn to face Cato with my chin lifted up.

“Why are you still wearing your clothes?” I ask feeling Cato’s eyes on my body.

“Why don’t you help me take them off?” he purrs.

“No, you have to do it yourself. I’m gonna sit here and watch”, I tell him as I move to the massive bed.

“Fine. If that pleases you”, Cato answers like an obedient schoolboy.

I’m sure I hear a hint of hidden sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes, now go on. Put up a show for me”, I continue with a demanding tone.

Cato gives me his signature smirk and starts teasing me by lifting his shirt up almost like in slow motion. Finally he takes off the shirt completely and tosses it to the floor.

“That’s more like it”, I approve trying to keep on my most critical face.

I do have to admit though that Cato’s abs are pretty admirable. As he starts slowly unzipping his pants I can’t help but return his smirk. But as quickly as I can I return my professional expression. Cato drops his pants to the floor and steps out of them. He starts to move towards me but I stop him:

“You’re not finished yet.”

“I’m not?” he asks looking down at his body.

“Nope”, I confirm with a straight face.

“Not fair”, Cato protests.

“Who said I was fair?” I tease.

“If you insist”, Cato states theatrically and then removes his boxers lazily tossing them on the floor next to his shirt.

I nod approvingly as I enjoy taking in the sight of his naked body.

“What should I do with you?” I ponder out loud.

“Maybe you could be the one being ordered around for instance”, Cato chuckles.

“I could. But will I? Na-ah”, I answer cheekily, “I’m not gonna make it that easy for you.”

“Shall I call you mistress as well?” Cato replies sarcastically.

“Get on your knees, servant”, I order.

“You gotta be kidding me”, Cato grumbles.

“Obey”, I demand with an icy-cold voice, “And don’t use that tone on me.”

Cato shakes his head in a disbelieving manner but does what he’s told and gets down.

“What now?” he asks clearly amused.

“I’m happy that you’re so eager to please but did I tell you to speak, bitch?” I ask in a threatening tone.

“Well, excuse me”, Cato retorts pretending to be offended.

“Shut up”, I command haughtily and Cato finally stops talking.

I get up from the bed and put my black heels back on. I start walking around Cato the heels clacking nicely on the parquet.

“You need to apologize”, I require, “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry”, Cato says making it sound more like a question than an apology.

I slap him half-heartedly on the face which makes him curse at me. I slap him hard the second time.

“I’m sorry, mistress”, I spell out and make Cato repeat after me. 

“Okay, you’re off the hook”, I finally relent.

“You understand that my duty as a career is to take revenge on you”, he states with a voracious glint in his eyes.

I roll my eyes and try to look frustrated even though excitement is clearly visible on my face. Cato gives me a devilish smile before throwing me on the bed. He strips me naked and then fucks me hard. I lie in his arms for a while clinging to his damp skin like he’s the only thing needed to keep me alive. I realize I feel safe. Cato’s the thing I have from home I guess. It’s funny that the academy I hated so much feels more like a home now than district 4. 

I’ve spent there most of my life after all even though never fitted in as I have mentioned before. Maybe that’s just destiny, never belonging. How poetic. I play with the thought for a second and then throw it away. There’s no such thing as destiny. How childish for me to blame everything on the universe. There must be something wrong with me. I don’t appreciate anything I get in life. I’m constantly unsatisfied. I have to ask, how did mom do it. She always looked so happy, like everything was right in the world which is a perfectly ridiculous idea with you know, the living from hand to mouth life being the life of the great amount of people in our district. I suppose it’s the same for the other districts too. Though I don’t really know anything about the others except for the things that we were told in school, only that they were born because of the Civil War and that they each have their own speciality, like we and our fish. But they didn’t tell us about the interesting stuff like how people dress in 8 or what kind of accent they have in 5. Of course there were rumours. I remember a lots of fun times making entertainment of the people in 12 or 11. They are the poorest districts after all so they had to be the poorest in everything else too. I feel a bit bad about the jokes but for our defence, they never do well in the Games. Well, sometimes 11’s but nethertheless there were also cruel jokes about 4 for being the career district with the least careers in it so it must mean we’re not as qualified as the ones from 1 and 2. Besides it’s further away from the Capitol so it must be that we’re poor. 

Even though I said that great amount of us live from hand to mouth I still wouldn’t say we’re actually poor. We have a great share of luxuries like the holidays and good amount of food and drinking water and nice clean clothes and such. We just provide the food and clothes mostly ourself so if you slack off from work as a fisherman for example then suddenly there isn’t enough food. Fish isn’t very well preserving, you know, so no big food stashes in the storage. Not to sound like a big martyr I have to mention that the students from 2 had their own hate club. Even though someone occasionally made fun of how I stink like fish the hate towards 2’s was something else. District 2 is known as the Capitol’s bitch for gaining the valuable support and love from the dear Capitol for being so loyal and all. And you can just guess how that goes. And district 1 had the fancy posh asshole jokes for the jewelry making, “You’re no good for other than making trinkets.” That was obviously just one way to keep up the competition between us but enough about that. 

As funny as it sounds I do feel safe in Cato’s arms, the same Cato who used to beat me up in combat at least twice as hard than needed to just for the fun of it. Who knows, maybe he misses home too. Cato’s never shown any interest in me other than beating me in the top ranks. That’s how far as our relationship has ever went and now, look at us nuzzling in each other like lovers. I almost laugh out loud but I stop myself not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“Cato, do you miss home?” I hear myself asking.

He makes an uncomfortable twitching motion before replying:

“A bit yeah. But I’ll return in few weeks.”

There’s an if hanging in the air but neither of us feels the need to say it out loud. I curl up tighter in Cato’s arms and he starts to stroke my hair. 

“I liked your hair better brown”, he states carelessly.

The moment is over. I feel annoyment swelling up inside of me. Why the hell does he have to remind me of the case of my hair? Asshole.

“Well, too bad I don’t wear my hair the way you want me to wear it”, I retort spitefully.

“Wow, chill out!” Cato tries cool me down.

I sigh resentfully and before he can stop me, quickly get up from the bed.

“Come on, Lynn”, he coaxes.

“I know you can’t help but say stupid things but I’m really not in the mood for it”, I answer icily while gathering my clothes from the floor.

Cato lets out a frustrated noise and tries to cover for himself:

“I didn’t mean your hair looks bad. It’s okay in blond too.”

“Like Glimmer’s?” I cut in.

“Yes. Like Glimmer’s”, he agrees thinking he’s played his cards right.

“Did you just fuck me because you couldn’t get from her?” I question Cato as I’m dressing up furiously.

“No, it’s not like that. I could get from her. I mean…” he explains.

“Oh, fuck you”, I say with a disgusted expression, “Zip me up, won’t you?”

I turn around and he stands up to help me.

“Lynn, is there anything I can say?” he asks me sounding impotent.

“No”, I answer simply and turn to stare at him as he’s finished with my zipper, “It’s Hermia.”

That said I pick up my heels and march out of the room trying to make as little sound as possible. In the hallway I look around cautiously and an impulsive thought crosses me. I try the door next to Cato’s room making it open just slightly. I see two brown eyes staring at me alarmed. Recognition spreads quickly on the owner’s face.

“Hermia!” Clove exclaims excitedly.


	8. We All Watch Them Die

I shush Clove and go into the room closing the door behind me. 

“Was that you Cato was fucking?” she questions me with raised eyebrows, “I would’ve guessed for Glimmer.”

“So would’ve I”, I agree looking a bit embarrassed.

“The pretty boy charm, huh?” she muses.

“I guess, but are you okay?” I ask worried as I note Clove’s slightly reddened eyes.

At first she looks confused but then catches what I’m referring to.

“Oh, this”, she says pointing at her eyes, “It’s nothing. Just a little bit of homesickness.”

“I guess that’s in the air”, I response wistfully.

“Cato too?”, she asks seeming almost shocked, “I never would’ve thought.”

I keep silent not being able to say anything.

“Come here”, Clove suggests tapping on the empty place on the bed next to her.

I comply and sit down. Clove rests her head on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asks with a faint whisper.

“What do you mean?” I question a bit startled.

“I don’t know if I have a bad judge of character but you seem a bit down”, she explains sympathetically. 

“Maybe”, I admit.

“Was he that bad?” Clove asks jokingly.

“No, he was pretty good”, I chuckle.

“Figures”, she mutters sounding slightly annoyed.

We share a small laugh together. I rest my head on top of hers and we stay that way awhile until she makes a small movement which makes me pull way.

“What am I going to do?” she asks lifting her head up from my shoulder.

“Stay alive”, I tell Clove looking her deep in the eyes, “Get sponsors. I’m sure you’ll nail the interview.”

“I will”, she promises getting her fearlessness back again.

“I’ll send you gifts”, I assure and hug her. 

Clove hugs me back and gives a thank you. Another goodbye.

I get out of the second floor almost safe until I run into Enobaria, the mentor who won her game by ripping out the throat of an other tribute. That’s what she’s known for, and her sharpened golden teeth. I get a funny look from her but she lets me pass. Enobaria keeps staring at me fiercely until the elevator doors close blocking the view. Well, that was awkward, I think to myself. And I’m not just talking about the encounter with Enobaria, the whole thing with Cato. And oh shit, how could I forget? Two extra people know who I am. How am I going to tell Crane? I must use flattery. He likes it. And maybe talk to his cactus. He likes it also. Not the cactus. Crane. How should I know? Maybe plants appreciate if you chat with them. Who knows. That’s what I’ve heard anyway even though I don’t believe it. Oh shit, what’s the time? I look around to check it. It’s almost five. I must hurry. I really hope the sessions haven’t finished early. As I switch elevators I count the presumed time for the sessions multiple times in my head until I’m convinced that I’ve really counted it right, besides there’s also the scoring. I should make it in time. But can the scoring really last two hours? Crane said he’d be back about five o’clock but you never know how specific people are when it comes to time. The elevator stops at our floor and it feels like the avox is taking forever opening the door for me. I thank the avox quickly before rushing to the hallway. I check that no one’s looking and dash to the right door. Before unlocking it I make sure I look decent by sorting my hair and putting on a non-suspicious expression. I open the door and see that Crane’s not there. What a relief. I have a couple of minutes to figure out how I’m going to tell him. 

I sigh deep and collapse on our bed. Different scenarios keep buzzing in my head, appearing and disappearing within a second. I can’t focus. The events of the day keep clouding my head, muffling my thoughts together into a colorless mush. The strips of my mind are trying to flounder themselves free from the chaotic mess of insensible thoughts. Sometimes they get free but then became scared because of the sudden loneliness so they have to get back into the mush or retire and find a nice house at the beach. And they are never ever seen again. See, that’s what I’m talking about, my thoughts make no sense. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s already quarter past. Where is Crane? Nevermind. The solitude is okay, welcome actually. You could say this day has been a pretty good day. It has it’s flaws but despite them, a damn good day exploring and hanging out with can-I-say-friends. But as much as I’ve enjoyed today I feel very exhausted. Social things tire me. I close my eyes and enjoy the silence. I realize I’m famished. I’ve forgot to eat anything since breakfast, just had two cups of coffee. I order green tea and something called “Le mouton à la sauce de vin rouge avec les artichauts et la baguette” from the room service and get some kind of tender red meat soaked in red wine sauce with artichokes and white bread, and of course the tea as well. The food is heavenly nourishing. The tea tastes kind of smokey in a good way. I finish the meal quickly and as I’m pouring myself another cup of tea, I can hear a key turning in the lock. Crane’s finally here. I check the time. It’s already past six. As the door is opened a bright and cheerful Crane comes in. That’s rare.

“Sorry, I’m late”, he apologizes heartily closing the door behind him, “I got you left-overs.”

“Oh, thanks but I’ve already eaten”, I tell him apologetically.

“Cake then? There’s always room for dessert”, he says waving the plastic bag in his hand rapidly. 

Crane’s enthusiasm makes me smile.

“Yeah, why not. You want some tea with it?” I offer showing him the teapot still in my hands, “It’s green.”

“Thanks”, Crane voices and walks to the bed staggering a bit on the way.

He’s obviously drunk. I think I’ll have to wait for tomorrow to break the news about getting caught. Although Crane would probably take it better in his current state I decide it’s still better to postpone the confession. 

“I guess you had fun at work”, I point out with a smirk.

“It was actually pretty boring”, Crane chuckles starting to unwrap the cake, “until this girl from district 12, the Girl On Fire, you know, she was extraordinary, fearless, outstanding… Katniss was her name. She...”

“Sounds like you’re in love”, I tease.

“Only with you, honey”, Crane assures planting a kiss on my cheek.

I feel waves of guilt rushing through me. I shouldn’t have done it with Cato. It wasn’t really about showing Crane has no control over me. It was just a bad, impulsive decision. Apparently going with the flow doesn’t work for me either. I wish I could just forget what happened. I push the memory out of my mind but am still left feeling uncomfortable.

“Well, what makes the Girl On Fire so special?” I inquire pouring a cup of tea for Crane.

Crane goes to get plates and spoons and as he serves the cake starts explaining:

“Well, it’s a funny story really. First as the girl came there I thought she wasn’t. She even shot her arrow past the target. That’s when I kinda stopped paying attention to her, like there was this huge pig they brought over. Everyone was starting to get up and get themselves a slice. And the next thing you know the 12 girl has shot an arrow right pass my head straight through the apple in the pig’s mouth!”

“What? Seriously?” I exclaim disbelievingly.

“Yeah. Seriously”, he answers merrily taking a bite of his piece of cake.

I try the cake too. It’s chocolate and something else more fruity. I like it.

“She could’ve hit you, you know”, I point out trying to get Crane’s feet back on the ground.

“I know. But she shot the arrow anyway. That’s what’s so great about her. She took a risk. That makes her damn exceptional”, he rants excitedly.

“Exceptional? If that’s the word you wanna use”, I remark cynically sipping my tea.

“She was so sure of herself that she did it ignoring all the possible bad scenarios. If anything’s brave, that is”, Crane goes on.

“And also reckless”, I retort.

“That’s maybe just what you need to win”, he weighs tracing his bottom lip with his thumb.

“You think she has a chance?” I ask.

“Actually I do”, he responds sounding as taken aback as me.

He glances at the clock.

“Do you wanna watch the scoring?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure”, I agree and Crane switches on the television.

First there’s the end credits of a show with a chirpy theme songs playing in the background, then there’s some commercials of the latest beauty products and fashions and finally Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith’s faces appear on the screen welcoming the viewers to watch the show. They share a couple of jokes before getting to the point. Both Clove and Cato get a 10. As the girl from 4 is being scored I can’t help but remark:

“I could be in her place right now.”

“Not likely. She’s a volunteer”, Crane muses still eyes on the screen.

“I would be in her place”, I assure him, “You didn’t know I was going to volunteer? ”

Of course, he didn’t know. We’ve never really discussed the specifics of my life in 4. Confusion on Crane’s face turns to amusement.

“No, I didn’t know. You? A volunteer?” he questions staring at me with a disbelieving expression.

“Well, I was top of class so that’s the conclusion. You think they let any greenie volunteer?” I lecture Crane.

“Hmm, I have never really thought of it”, he admits with a shrug and then sweetens his tone, “but I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Crane takes me in his arms.

“How can you do it?” I whisper.

“Do what?” Crane breathes in my ear.

“Watch them die”, I answer staring at the TV.

A huge black guy from 11 scores also a 10. That’s one to look out for. The small girl gets an 8.

“I don’t really understand the question. We all watch them die”, Crane says nuzzling to my neck.

Girl On Fire appears on the screen. 11!

“You gave her the best scores”, I exclaim with a look of distaste on my face.

“We did. Imagine everyone’s face”, he chuckles heartily.

“I have to talk to you about something”, I blurt out.

Here it goes.

“I went out today”, I confess expecting a fit of anger.

“What?” Crane laughs disbelievingly.

“Did you expect me to stay here doing nothing?” I defend myself.

“No, actually I didn’t”, he admits and shakes his head”, I’m glad that you told me.”

“That’s not all”, I continue, “In the elevator I ran into the boy from my district and he recognized me.”

First Crane looks stunned then starts laughing like a madman.

“I’m not joking”, I tell him sternly, “It’s not funny. At all.”

“I know. I know you wouldn’t joke about this”, he assures still laughing, “but it’s just what are the odds? Do you all fucking know each other in district 4 or something?”

“No”, I answer not seeing the joke, “The boy’s my brother’s best friend’s little brother.”

Crane just starts laughing louder.

“You’re scaring me”, I say humorlessly.

“Sorry”, he apologizes trying to get his act together but fails, “I mean what are the odds?”

“Good enough, I suppose”, I state grimly.

“Yeah”, Crane agrees getting more serious, “We really need to discuss this.”

“Exactly”, I agree, “I made the boy swear he wouldn’t tell. Well, Cato did.”

“Cato? He’s the one from 2, right? How does he fit in the picture?” he babbles confused.

“He was in the elevator. With me”, I explain, “Okay, I hang out with him and Clove. I was bored, okay.”

“So there’s three people who know?” Crane asks in a scary low voice.

“Just the kid and Cato”, I assure.

“Okay, why would Cato fend for you?” Crane continues the interrogation.

“We know each other way back”, I admit, “He didn’t recognize me at first though with the hair and makeup and all.”

“Then how is it possible that the kid did?” Crane demands clearly frustrated.

“I don’t know! Maybe he has a better face memory. Maybe it’s because he’s seen me pretty before”, I nearly yell at Crane but then succeed to collect myself, “Cato’s never seen me in a dress.”

“Okay. But how do you know you can trust Cato?” Crane questions his voice heating up.

“I just do and the boy won’t say anything. He’s too scared of Cato”, I assure, “And you can just kill the kid off if you must. Then it’d be settled for good.”


	9. Ready For Battle

I spend the next day in with Crane. He’s work doesn’t start until 8 pm. It’s almost like a day off for the gamemakers for gathering strength for the upcoming work marathon with only couple of hours of sleep at a time, sometimes less. I really don’t know how they do it. Probably lots of coffee and energy drinks. In the evening Crane leaves for his shift. I watch the tribute interviews from TV alone. Caesar Flickerman is as charming as ever and the tributes try their best to be. I really think Clove nails it as she promised. As Glimmer’s sexy and Cato vicious she’s sweet and sarcastic. She looks beautiful in her strapless dress. I also have to admit that the Girl On Fire has a stunning design and the flames look kinda cool on her.

After the show Crane returns to me looking like he’s seen a ghost.

“Snow wants you to attend his party tonight”, he announces.

I feel my insides turning upside down. Has the kid told? Crane notices I’m terrified. He comes closer to me and tries to soothe me. He starts stroking my hair and looks me deep in the eyes holding his face just inches away from mine.

“Do you remember the phrase?” he asks softly.

I nod and try to give him the correct answer but somehow the words get stuck in my throat. Crane sighs and makes me repeat the phrase after him:

“My name is Hermia Crane. I’m the 15-year-old daughter of Seneca Crane and Servilia Havendeer. I lived with my mother in the city until she passed away a few weeks ago. My home school teacher’s name is Octavian and my best friend’s name is Eirene.”

Crane kisses me on the forehead and makes me repeat the phrase again and again until my voice doesn’t tremble a bit. Then he kisses me sweetly on the mouth as a reward.

“Very good”, he praises holding my head between his hands, “Very good. You’ve never seen the tributes before in your life except on the television. Understood?”

“Understood”, I confirm and Crane kisses me again.

As we part from the kiss he still keeps me close holding his forehead pressed against mine. 

“You know how to lie. I know you do”, he assures me.

I close my eyes and we stay silent for awhile.

“I’ll send a stylist and a makeup artist for you”, Crane promises pulling away from me, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

The stylists make me look sensational. They dress me in a cobalt blue gown that compliments my waist and neck and has a deep cut back. They add sparkling diamonds to the hem, the waist, my eyelids and my hair. They put blue and silver on my eyes and coral on my lips and fix me with long lilac eyelashes and nails to match my hair. They put glitter all over my skin and paint a beauty spot on my cheek. For shoes I get high-heeled silver-colored pumps with diamonds in them too. As I look at myself in the mirror I see an alien, a beautiful stranger.

“What do you think, Ms Crane?” a stylist with pink hair and golden skin asks with a smile on his face.

“I look lovely, thank you”, I answer politely.

“Yes, you do. Absolutely dazzling!” he compliments me.

Crane wears a silvery suit and a blue tie and shoes matching to my outfit. How charming. Well, I have to admit we look good together. Ready for a battle. 

The party is held at the ballroom of Snow’s tremendous mansion. It’s a white room which is stained with atmospheric violet light glowing from the lighted chandeliers that have a stream of crystals hanging from the horns and twinkling in the light. There’s emerald and golden chiffon cloths attached to the walls, left swaying with the occasional flows of air and a lot of glitter and diamonds all over the place. The numerous long tables are filled with all kind of food, pastries and refreshment. We’re fashionably late and I can see that some of the invites have had their fair share of the punch already and are tripping over their heels or dancing wildly on the floor. I like the music the orchestra is playing. It’s nothing like I’ve ever heard before. The flowing rhythm makes goosebumps rise to my skin and the singer’s sweet, rich voice is making me melt like hot butter. As Crane starts to chat with a lady in lime I move closer to the musicians. The tempting melodies and the singer’s silky voice draws me to the front of the stage through the dancing and swaying crowd. The singer is wearing a simple white suit that looks pretty good against his dark complexion. The only Capitol Couture in his look are shiny silver dress shoes dazzling like the sun in the strong spotlights. The guy looks at ease on the stage moving to the music like he’s breathing the rhythm. A thought crosses my mind. It would be incredible to have him play at my funeral which by this rate might actually be pretty soon. I search for Crane with my eyes so I can tell him the idea but I can’t see him anywhere. Ten minutes and I got lost. Great. Well, with the dancing and chattering crowd all around me I can’t really do anything about it so I might as well enjoy myself. I take an orange drink from an avox who’s waitering and drink it in two gulps. I want another one. As I start to run after the avox a hand grabs my shoulder. I turn around startled. 

“You want a Manhattan?” asks a grinning Finnick holding a cocktail glass in his hand, “It was Hermia, right?”

“Oh yes, please”, I answer and return a wide grin,” It was Finnick, right?” 

Finnick hands me the drink but just as I’m about to taste it, picks the cherry from the glass and starts savoring it enjoyingly keeping his gaze on me. It makes makes me uncomfortable but I don’t let it show. I fix him with a challenging stare. Why is Finnick trying to provoke me?

“Oh, please excuse my manners. Did you want the maraschino?”, he asks in his most innocent voice, “You can have the rest if you want to.”

He moves his hand to feed it to me but I stop him.

“I’m fine, thanks”, I assure smiling sweetly.

“You sure?” he checks.

I nod and Finnick eats the rest of the cherry and licks the juice from his lips. I take a big gulp of my drink. It’s much better than the orange one but also stronger. The orchestra begins to play a ballad and everyone starts to slow-dance around us. Before anyone tries to ask Finnick he takes my hand and spins me around making me spill my drink a bit.

“Can I have this dance?” he asks persistently.

I empty my glass and agree. Finnick places his hand on my waist touching my bare skin and making me shiver. I give my glass to a young avox girl and position myself for dancing. Finnick draws me a bit too close and takes the lead. I see a lot of jealous stares.

“Want to share your secrets?” Finnick purrs in my ear.

“What are you getting at?” I question him.

He chuckles and responds:

“If daddy could see you now.”

“Then what?” I ask.

Finnick just laughs again and spins me around. I get very dizzy and almost stumble over my high heels. Finnick catches me immediately.

“Careful”, he warns me correcting my position, “Don’t want to break your pretty ankles.”

“I think I’ll need to find dad. He’s probably worried”, I excuse myself and push myself through the crowd to a table bearing different kind of jellies and puddings. I help myself with the white pudding. It tastes like vanilla, raisins and rum. I become very thirsty and start looking for water. I don’t see any so I settle for a margherita. I realize I’m getting tipsy so I decide to take a little break from drinking after just this one drink more. The lady in lime approaches me and starts talking to me. I can’t really focus on what she’s saying since my head has started to spin pretty wildly. I hear the words “President Snow” from her mouth and suddenly I feel almost sober.

“Follow me”, the woman says.

A lump forms in my throat but I just nod and she starts leading me through the mass of people. I finish the rest of my drink for couragement. Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t have. The dizziness returns. I put the emptied glass on a platter and follow the lady in lime across the ballroom to a dim hallway that isn’t too crowded. There’s only few people there. A couple kissing and some who seem nauseated or tired. We stop in front of a light mahogany door and the woman knocks on it two times sharply. In a second Crane opens it and lets us in. I draw in a deep breath to calm myself and put on my most sober face. I prepare to face my faith.

“Oh, there you are, Hermia”, Crane exclaims hugging me.

“Thank you, Aelia”, a mellow, cold voice speaks from across the room.

I see Snow sitting behind a desk in a grey and red suit. He fixes his icy stare on me. The lady in lime leaves the office and closes the door behind her.

“What a beautiful young lady”, Snow states now warmth in his voice, “Seneca, why have you never introduced us?”

“I wasn’t sure if you liked children”, Crane responds with a smile.

“Well, who doesn’t, Seneca. Who doesn’t”, Snow replies and then continues looking back at me, “How old are you, darling?”

Crane moves protectively closer to me but I take a few steps forward towards the desk trying to walk as steady and straight as possible succeeding quite okay. 

“Fifteen, Mr. President”, I smile sweetly even though I’m actually terrified to the bone.

“And she’s polite too. Maybe you could learn a few things from her”, Snow claims looking at Crane.

Crane laughs a bit uncomfortably. I just keep my smile on and stand there. So good, so far.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Snow asks politely.

“Yes, sir. I loved the vanilla pudding”, I tell him.

Snow smiles at me contently. I feel my courage coming back to me bit by bit.

“I’m sure my granddaughter would like to meet you. You’re such a lovely girl”, he beams.

“I’d like that too”, I agree.

“Why don’t you go get her, Seneca?” Snow suggests.

I glance at Crane and meet his alarmed gaze. I nod at him in approval.

“Okay, I will”, he then promises.

“She’s in her room”, Snow tells him.

I share a last minute look exchanging with Crane before he goes out the door. I start waiting for the worst.


	10. Not The Usual Trouts And Salmons

“I can see that you’re a very smart girl, Hermia”, Snow estimates.

That’s not exactly what I was expecting.

“Please, sit down”, he offers gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk.

I thank him and sit down. He smells strongly of roses and something else sweet which I can’t really figure out.

“Does your father ever discuss work with you?” he questions.

“No, not really”, I answer confused about the turn in the conversation.

“You do watch the Games, don’t you, darling?” he continues determined.

“Yes, of course, sir”, I smile.

“Do you have a favorite tribute?” he asks.

“The girl from 2, Clove. She got a score of ten”, I play along obediently.

No interrogation or hard questions. I’m relieved.

“She’s quite feisty, isn’t she?” Snow agrees “Although the girl from district 12 scored even better. Why do you think that is?”

I shrug and look at Snow questioningly.

“Your father, he likes an underdog.” he responds thoughtfully, “What about you, darling? Do you like an underdog?”

I shake my head.

“No”, Snow says emphatically, “I thought so. Perhaps you take after your mother then?”

“I don’t know but I don’t think dad means any harm”, I assure nervously.

“I know, child. But you see, we are dealing with serious business here, business that shouldn’t be messed with”, Snow clears in a grave tone, “You should discuss about the matter with your father. You certainly could speak some sense into him.” 

Why does Crane like an underdog? That’s what I’ve always felt like, an underdog, never belonging, escaping inside of my own head dreaming of something better and trying to forget myself by doing something reckless and never appreciating what I have and least myself. I’ve always found it hard to be in my own skin. Being the very best has been the way to deal with my insecurities. That’s why I’ve been always so infuriated when Cato has beaten me. It made me feel worthless. If I wasn’t the best there was no purpose for me. My father hardly talked to us and my mother, she sold us. My sister Genna is wonderful but she moved away when I was eleven. She found a good husband who she could continue father’s trade with. And she being eighteen and I eleven, our age gap felt too huge for bonding at the time so I really never got to know her. I think she helps mother with the charity and that I don’t understand. Four years ago Marlowe was killed in the Games and mom still insisted on training me and Raff. Me I can understand since I was already fourteen but Raff was only seven. He could’ve stopped the program and still learn fishing. But again I wasn’t enough. I know I can’t blame mother for Marlowe’s death because the ironic thing is he never got the training. He was never a career. Marlowe didn’t have to volunteer. He was chosen. I think it would’ve been much easier if I could’ve just hated mother and focused all the anger on her but it just didn’t feel right. She isn’t guilty. It was only bad luck. Even though I was an emotional wreck that was the year when I got on the top. The sorrow and anger inside of me that I couldn’t take out on mother worked as a fuel for my training and little by little I started to forget, forget how important Marlowe had been to me, forget how close we had been.

Actually I think I’ve been lying. There was a moment I felt like I belonged. That one year before Seale volunteered. I was very hyped for Seale because I knew he could make it. He was nothing like Marlowe. Seale wasn’t a poor 12-year-old boy who got chosen by accident. This was Seale, the best of the best, my older brother who I admired and respected and who also respected me even though I wasn’t as skilled or as good as him. That year we suddenly grew closer despite our age gap. Seale showed me that if I was going to be good, I shouldn’t be afraid to lose. First I didn’t get what he meant but as he kept encouraging me to test my limits and make mistakes to learn from them, then little by little a mental weight lifted off my shoulders and I finally started to feel I had life under my control which now seems funny to me since nothing actually changed. I just started to love my prison. Even though everything was a lie, it was still the best year of my life and sometimes, I have to admit, I long for the sweet ignorance of not knowing and most importantly not caring what it was like outside of my own little bubble. Still, all good things have to end.

Watching Seale’s games poked tiny holes to my bubble which let in doubt and anxiety. I tried to pluck the holes for almost three years but gradually my bubble was becoming feebler and feebler. I was feeling the suffocating weight on my shoulders again and even Seale couldn’t help me. After the Games his energetic and lively self had turned into a mere shadow of it. I figured I should get inspiration by watching some of the previous games so I went to the library and randomly picked a game from a couple years ago. What I saw wasn’t what I had hoped for. It was more than just action and gore. It was tributes trying to find food and water to keep themselves alive, sleeping on the hard ground and trying to find shelter from the vicious careers. Much more than just fighting. At first I thought it was just a bad year. Where were the noble heroes who fought for their people? Where were the triumphant champions who brought pride to their districts? All I could see was ordinary teenagers fighting in a fucking swamp. I got really angry. How could even the tributes from my own district be so damn lousy? They were suppose to inspire me, not make me feel ashamed of them.

I decided I’d seen enough so I switched to a newer one and was even more annoyed. What was wrong with the tributes? Maybe it was that the modern generation was ruined and no one just wanted to say it out loud. I didn’t like the thought but that would explain it all. I tried to watch one of the older games but they were all the same shit. I even tried the legendary ones like Enobaria’s or Finnick’s or Cashmere’s. That was it. That’s when my bubble finally blew up. I realized the tributes were people. I realized we were individuals even in the academy, not just a faceless mass to be molded however liked. As I understood it, I felt like everything was disgusting. I hated everything, everyone, especially myself for being so stupid. So when Crane appeared out of the blue and told me about a new wonderful bubble that I could be part of, of course I jumped head first in the water. I know I can swim and that the water is my friend but the thing I didn’t know was that the water would be full of piranhas not just the usual trouts and salmons.

I feel questioning eyes on me, the eyes of the king of the piranhas. I’d rather call Snow a shark but piranhas live in rivers and sharks in the sea so that would be plain weird. I think I wouldn’t jump head first in a river though. Okay, I think you got the point.

“Sorry, sir?” I utter nervously. 

I hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Do you want something to drink, darling? Lemonade, tea, coffee?” Snow offers.

“Coffee, please”, I answer and Snow calls out an avox from the next room and delivers my order.

As the avox brings my coffee as quickly as things happen in the Capitol I hear a knock from the door behind me. Crane.

“Will you open the door, dear?” Snow asks and I comply.

As I rise up I feel the dizziness rushing to my head again. Damn, why is it so much harder standing up? I take support from my chair and get myself to walk to the door somewhat decently. I feel my skin heat up from the resolute effort which I’m putting into trying to keep my mind sharp and my body in control. I open the door and greet Crane and Snow’s granddaughter with a brilliant smile. I present myself to the sleek 12-year-old-looking girl and shake her hand. She tells her name is Celestia. I compliment her name and make her smile.

“This is Seneca’s daughter, dear”, Snow says to his granddaughter gesturing to me.

“Yes, I heard from Mr. Crane, grandpa”, she notifies still looking at me as if trying to make out her opinion about me.

“Seneca and I still have things to talk about so why don’t you show Hermia around, darling?” Snow suggests not expecting an answer and continues this time directing his words at me, “Take your coffee with you, Hermia. It’s the best in Panem.”

“I’m sure”, I smile and take the coffee carefully from the desk. 

I take a sip from it and nod in approval. On my way out my eyes meet with Crane’s. I can’t read his expression. It’s something between worry and relief. I turn my eyes away.

“Let’s go”, Celestia says cheerfully taking my hand.

“Have fun, girls”, Snow wishes wanting to get rid of us already.

“We will, grandpa”, Celestia promises and then turns to Crane “Bye, Mr. Crane.”

Crane and Snow wave us goodbye and Celestia takes me out of the room.

As the door closes behind us she takes a look at me from my head to toe and asks eyeing me suspiciously:

“Are you drunk?”

Well, somebody caught me.

“A bit. Why?” I reply calmly.

“Really? Can you get me something?” she asks her eyes filled with excitement.

“No. I don’t think your grandpa would like that”, I argue.

“Please, you’re only a couple of years older than me. Besides I just want to taste a little”, Celestia keeps insisting.

“How old are you?” I question her.

“Almost thirteen”, Celestia says with the same determined expression I saw on Snow’s face just a minute ago.

“Almost thirteen… No! I’m not going to get you any alcohol” I hold my stance.

She starts giving me shade.

“Besides it’s there for the taking. If you want it just go get it yourself”, I argue.

“Fine, I will”, Celestia promises and marches confidently towards the ballroom.

“Celestia, wait”, I try to stop her but she just keeps fastening her pace.

“Fine, I’ll do it”, I comply preventing her from disappearing into the crowd.

Celestia turns in her heels and smiles at me radiantly:

“I knew I liked you.”


End file.
